Dizzie's First Adventure
by Raven Draketamer
Summary: Meet Dizzie, a ghostwise halfling. Follow her life as she gets in and out of trouble.


A small, cloaked figure hunched further into the shadows as four men passed under the dim light of a street lamp. The tallest of the four stopped within the halo of light. He stood slightly over six feet tall. His hair hung an inch below his shoulders and was the same dull yellow as the full beard he wore. There was an almost feral look to his eyes as he scanned the shadows.  
  
"See anything, Trib?" One of his companions asked.  
  
The man called Trib did not respond, continuing to scan the shadows. His gaze passed over the huddled form and he paused for a moment, as if he could pierce the inky blackness and see what lay hidden.  
  
Trib scowled, bringing out a large red gash across his check under his right eye. "Nothing here," he growled in the common tongue. He took one last look around and then motioned for his companions to follow as he continued forward.  
  
The figure hiding in the shadows stayed still and watched as the four men disappeared around a building on the other side of town. Ten minutes passed and still the bundle did not move. It did not think that the men would give up so easily and did not want to accidentally bump into them while fleeing.  
  
Another hour had passed and the streets became even darker, and quieter. The nightlife had fully taken over and the bundle still hiding in the shadows had born witness to deeds and events best kept to the dark. It was just as well it had not been spotted. It had no desire to join the unlucky fellow who lay unmoving in a pile of trash nearby. It shifted its weight and slowly stood, working muscles stiff with disuse. Now standing, the figure was at its full height of three feet two. A small sound came from deep within the bundle, not unlike that of a babe.  
  
"Shush child, all will be well," the small being whispered. "Soon we will be out of here and homeward bound." The speaker's voice was low and a bit husky. Cooing softly in a soothing voice, the child quieted and nuzzled into the arms of its protector.  
  
Scanning the street and judging it safe to continue, the bundle stood, revealing a small woman. Her long black hair pulled back into a single braid down her back, her green eyes scanned the streets once more before she crossed the street and quickly made her way to an Inn she knew would be safe. She would await the sunrise and leave as soon as the gates to the city were opened. Perhaps her pursuers would not be up so early. She figured it was probably against their nature to rise before noon.  
  
The halfling, the name other races called her kind, moved quickly down the street. Lissa did not like cities. To most, a halfling was a halfling. To the Hin, which is what they called themselves, there were many differences. Those Hin, or halflings, that were generally found in human, elven or dwarven settlements were called Lightfoot. Their cousins, the Ghostwise, generally lived in villages away from the hustle and bustle of city life. In tune with nature and their surroundings, they choose to spend their lives in the wilds. They usually keep to their own people, not even spending time among other Hin villages unless they were of the Ghostwise. Rarely did Ghostwise Halflings venture far from home. She still wore the leather jerkin her sister and crafted over her forest green leggings and blouse. Lissa was sure she still appeared travel weary and not as clean and well dressed as her city bred cousins, but no matter how much time she spent in cities, she still preferred the openness of the outdoors.  
  
Her thoughts returned to that of the rolling hills of her homeland and how she'd soon be back. She hoped her family would forgive her and help raise her child. She realized now that she was young and foolish to go against the elders.  
  
"No, I was not completely wrong!" Lissa thought rebelliously. "Flich and I deserved to be together. The elders were wrong in trying to keep us apart."  
  
Her thoughts turned toward her return, what she would say to her family and the words she would speak to Flich's. He died a warrior, of that they should be proud, she thought bitterly. She was sure that wasn't going to be enough. She hoped her child would be.  
  
She sighed happily at the thought of her child. Above all else, regardless of all that had happened since she set out on her own, she never once regretted the child she bore. She'd honor Flich's memory and make sure that their child knew of him and how wonderful he had been and the credit he had been to the Hin.  
  
She spied the entrance to the Inn she'd been staying in. The Maiden's Kiss was owned and operated by a small halfling woman named Molly. A Lightfoot Halfling, Molly had lived and worked in the Inn for many years. A retired adventurer named Garth had originally owned it. Over the years, Garth and Molly had become close friends and when the former adventurer had passed on, he left the Inn to Molly. She had since then, lovingly taken care of the twelve-room, two story building. To honor her friend, Garth's war ax, the same he had carried with him through all his travels, still hung over the fireplace in the common room. She never tired of retelling Garth's exploits as a young man. She had a quick mind and could remember every word of the stories Garth and shared with the customers.  
  
Lissa let out a small sigh of relief, she had made it without once crossing paths with the band of men that had been chasing her through the last two cities. She was pretty sure that they were responsible for the death of Flich, but she couldn't prove it. If they still followed her once she returned home, they'd regret it.  
  
She entered through the double doors of the Inn, sticking to the shadows and making her way to the stairs, which led to her room. Her entrance was noticed Molly. The Lightfoot halfling was a couple inches shorter than Lissa, but could have easily passed as an older sister. Where Lissa wore her black hair in one long braid down her back, Molly wore hers unbound and pulled back from her face. They both had small pert noses and sparkling eyes, Molly a deep shade of green and Lissa's blue.  
  
Molly noticed the set of Lissa's shoulders and knew that her guest would likely no longer be here by morning. It was too bad really, she was starting to like her. And the child was a pure delight. She always had a smile for everyone and was one of the quietest babies Molly had ever been in contact with. She would not have minded at all had she decided to take up a more permanent residence.  
  
With a sigh, Molly returned to her duties behind the bar. In a short time she would have to chase out the last remaining customers and shut down for the night.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Lissa was awake before the first rays of the morning sun. She packed up what little belongings she had, a couple pairs of well mended shirts and leggings, some meager foodstuffs, a makeshift sling, several small finely shaped pebbles, and a small ordinary dagger. Lissa still wondered what had happened to her husband's belongings. He had been found dead, his throat slit and stripped of all his belongings save the clothes he wore. She lingered over the last item, a small brush with a carved bone handle. It had been a gift from Flich, passed down to him by his mother. Lissa lovingly caressed its handle remembering what he told her the day he gave it to her. It had been given to each new wife in the family since the day his great-great grandfather made it from the bone of a bear he had single handily brought down to save the life of a halfling maiden. Two months later he married her and gifted her with the brush. Lissa brushed away a small tear and placed the brush carefully in her bag.  
  
Settling her child into a small sling strapped to her. She smiled and softly caressed the cheek of her daughter. She tucked a silver ring hung from a silver chain under her daughter's clothing. She suspected that the ring might be the reason the four men were still chasing them, but she wasn't sure. Flich had given her the ring months before, telling her he had won it from a merchant at a faire in the first town they had visited. They had little money then, and Flich had decided to try his hand at cards. Whatever the case, it was the only thing she had left of him and she was convinced that her daughter should keep it.  
  
With one last look around the room, she made her way out of the Maiden's kiss and headed toward the city gates.  
  
It was a cool morning and there were already a fair number of people on the street. Most were merchants setting up their shop and servants buying the needed items for breakfast and other meals. She stopped at a fruit vendor and spent some of the meager coin she had left for fruit to eat later in the day.  
  
A hundred yards away she spied the gates and quickened her pace. She turned the corner, thinking to take a shortcut through an ally when she was roughly grabbed from behind and lifted several feet above the ground as a familiar gravely voice spoke "So theres ya be ya thieving pintsize freak. Now gives me back whats mine and I wont hurts ya too much." He laughed at his own joke and was joined by three others.  
  
Trib stood beside a large overweight man with long greasy black hair tied back and a small thin mustache that looked like whiskers. He had small eyes, set back deep on his face giving the impression of a fat rat. To the left of Trib stood a man barely an inch shorter than him and very thin. His green eyes had a cruel gleam to them. His black hair was cut short, close to his head and his face was clean-shaven. On the right of the obese rat looking man stood a short, bald male. He wore no shirt and sported many strange tattoos across his exposed body and face. Lissa had never seen his like before.  
  
She tried to kick her way free, terror for the safety of her child making her take action. "Let me go! I don't know what you're talking about. All I have is my child and the clothes we wear. Just leave us alone, we've done nothing to you." Her daughter began to cry.  
  
"Ya pintsize freaks are all the same, yous take what don't belongs to ya and pretend yous didn't do it."  
  
The man tightened his grip on Lissa's shirt collar, unknowingly cutting off her air. She gasped, trying to catch her breath and finding it too difficult. Unable to cry out for help vocally, she did the only thing left to her, she used the small gift her tribe possessed, the ability to speak without words. Lissa sent out a mental call, begging for help.  
  
The man continued to hold Lissa several feet off the ground and started shaking her in frustration, demanding she return his items to him. When she continued to do nothing more than call for help, he took out a small dagger and stabbed her with it. The blade bit deep into her chest, barely missing her child. She looked down at the dagger protruding from her, recognizing the intricately designed hilt and pommel. She saw the threads of wire thin silver that ran up and down its length, and remembered the love her brother had put into its making. She noted with a detached part of her mind how easily her husband's dagger slid into her chest.  
  
The man pulled the dagger free and made ready to sheath it once again in Lissa when two city guards appeared, followed closely by the small halfling woman, Molly. The man tossed Lissa to the ground along with the dagger. As Lissa fell, she rolled, making sure not to land on her daughter. She looked up and noticed that the man also carried Flich's sword, and anger burned deep within her, momentarily masking the pain in her chest.  
  
The small halfling woman ran toward Lissa as the city guards stepped forward to deal with the man. Lissa recognized her as Molly, the woman who ran the Maiden's Kiss. His three companions saw the guards and took their arrival as their cue to leave.  
  
"That man killed my husband," she croaked out before ending up in a coughing fit.  
  
One of the city guards was telling the man to drop his weapons as the other kneeled down beside Lissa "Are you sure of this ma'am?  
  
She nodded as best she could, "The dagger he used, and the short sword strapped at his side belonged to my husband."  
  
The man heard this and growled, "These are mine, I won them fair and square. The little man cheated in a game of cards. I was only taking what rightfully belonged to me." He looked toward the two halfling women, "And we all know you little freaks cheat."  
  
Lissa shook her head, "Flich would never do that." She went into a fit of coughs again, blood trickling down her chin.  
  
Molly spoke to the guard. "Sir, this woman is dying. Regardless of whatever happened between this man and her husband, the fact remains that he has made an unprovoked attack on this woman." She glared hatefully at Trib.  
  
"What's your name sir?" The first guard asked. He nodded toward several more guards as they turned the corner and headed toward their comrades. A man in robes accompanied them.  
  
"Thom Tribian."  
  
"You're under arrest, Tom Tribian. Until this situation is cleared up, you'll be staying in the city jails. You better hope she gets better because if she doesn't, you'll be in for a long while."  
  
"You ain't taking me to jail," he bellowed and lunged for the guard. The others came to his rescue, trying to subdue the man without the need for weapons. The robed man began to chant, making intricate designs in the air with his hands. He clapped his hands to end the spell and Thom dropped, snoring. The guards dragged him away as the robed man came and kneeled beside Molly. She noticed the medallion he wore and marked him as cleric of Lothander. She had faith he would use his skills as a healer to save her friend.  
  
"Here child, let me have a look." He did a quick examination of Lissa and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I do not have good news for your friend. It appears that the dagger pierced her lung and she has lost too much blood. My spells are not enough to save her. My home is close by. Let us go there to care for her as best we can in what little time remains her." He reached over to the child and spoke to her in a soft soothing voice. He then undid the sling and gently handed the child over to Molly before lifting Lissa easily into his arms.  
  
Molly reached over and grabbed the bloodied dagger. Cleaning the blade before stuffing it in her belt, she stood and followed after the cleric. A fierce anger swept through her. She made a vow then and there that Thom Tribian would pay for leaving the child in her arms and orphan. She would raise Lissa's child as her own. 


End file.
